


Rendezvous Mode

by Laylah



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Community: bucketlist, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Sex, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crackling quiet on the line for a second. "Are you serious?" Jake asks at last. "You've programmed that machine of yours to...?" He trails off but the question mark is audible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rendezvous Mode

**Author's Note:**

> in b4 Hussie sinks this ship?
> 
> Anon at bucketlist wanted _Long-distance, dirty chatting. Also possibly involving the brobot being put to uses that it may or may not have been built for._

They never video chat when they're going this far— _Allow a fellow to preserve a hint of mystery, would you?_ was the way Jake put it. Dirk didn't ask straight out but he's hoping the implied reasoning there is _so that something is still a surprise when we meet up in person_. But that was a subject best left alone until it looked more like an immediate possibility. For the short term, Dirk just bought himself a hands-free headset and casually cleared his schedule when it got late enough at night that the sun had gone down on Hellmurder Island.

Jake has all these ideas about appropriateness from the twentieth century, cross-bred oddly with the actual circumstances of living on the internet in the twenty-first: he never wants to have a "rendezvous" in the daytime, and Dirk bets he turns the lights out before they get started. Never mind what getting started entails.

The call comes in. Dirk slips the headset on and clicks _accept_. "Hey, sweetheart," he says. It's irony. Totally irony.

"Goodness, you're a romantic," Jake answers, his voice thin with distance and faking that silly accent.

"You caught me," Dirk says. He closes his eyes, leaning back against the wall. "How you doing? Have a chance to install the upgrade yet?"

"I certainly have," Jake says. "Rather a simple matter, popping one little disc into place! And the beastly fellow always comes home docile as a lamb when you've sent new materials for him."

Dirk lets himself smile. He wouldn't say so out loud, because it's ridiculous, but he likes the silly fake accent. The native human population of Hellmurder Island traces its ancestry to the fictionalized British Empire by way of pirated classic movies and ripped audiobooks of Jules Verne novels.

He's too busy being charmed to pay attention. "Hello?" Jake is saying now. "I say, Strider, do tell me you haven't lost your connection."

"I'm still here," Dirk says. Sometimes, if he's brutally honest enough, Jake can't take him seriously: "Just got distracted listening to the sound of your voice, that's all."

There's a noise over the line that might just be connection trouble, or it might be Jake catching his breath. Then Jake laughs. "Laying it on a bit thick this evening, aren't you, sir? I do hope this doesn't mean your infernal contraption is about to spring some horrifying surprise on me."

"Babe, if you find these upgrades horrifying, I'm going to have to rethink everything I know about our relationship," Dirk says.

"You and your riddles, Mister Strider," Jake says. "You do have quite a way of arousing a fellow's curiosity."

There is a very high probability Jake used that phrasing specifically for the entendre. Dirk unbuttons his jeans. "Let's see what we can do about arousing a few other things, and then I'll activate the brobot's new rendezvous mode."

" _Rendezvous mode_?" Jake echoes. "I begin to think you're fucking with me."

"Not yet," Dirk says, "but the night is young."

Crackling quiet on the line for a second. "Are you serious?" Jake asks at last. "You've programmed that machine of yours to...?" He trails off but the question mark is audible.

"To do things with you that I'm not there to do myself," Dirk says. He rubs the heel of his hand over the tent in his boxers once, then pulls his hand away again. "If that's okay with you, of course. I'm not flipping any switches without your metaphorical thumbs up."

"I see," Jake says. Dirk would like to think he sounds breathy with excitement. "Perhaps you'd better explain yourself in more detail, sir."

Dirk closes his eyes. "I want to touch you," he says. "I want to feel your skin under my hands. I want to make you shiver." He stretches out across his bed. "I want to trace every inch of you like I'm making a map of the sexiest forbidden temple in history and your cock is the hidden treasure."

Jake's laughter is goddamn gorgeous. "And your robot knows how to do all that now?"

"He's my expeditionary force," Dirk says. "I'm sending him in to check out the territory and make sure the environment's not hostile. A man of science takes precautions with this sort of thing. Also I'm letting my metaphor get away with me when I'm pretty sure I meant to be talking about how much I want your dick."

"Well, I am enjoying the metaphor," Jake says. "But as a man of action I feel honor-bound to encourage plain speech."

Dirk swallows hard. "Right. So," he says. "The brobot is limited by his hardware, obviously, since his primary function is fisticuffs and sexual exploration is a strictly aftermarket feature. So while I might, hypothetically, want to tease your foreskin back with my teeth and then swallow you down to the root like a porn star—"

" _Dirk_ ," Jake interrupts, a tone of voice that either means _yes please_ or _oh god mercy_ —

"Or lick your balls until it drove you out of your mind and you grabbed me by the hair to _make_ me pay attention to your cock," hypothetically, Dirk might want that a _lot_ , "unfortunately, the brobot is not gifted with the kind of oral dexterity those sick moves require, so your imagination will have to suffice on that front."

"It's a lot to ask a fellow, to imagine something like that," Jake says shakily. "But I'll give it a bloody good try."

Dirk's cock twitches. He doesn't touch it. "I have utmost faith in the powers of your imagination," he says.

He can hear Jake's deep breath. "Rather than tell me what your mechanical marvel can't provide," he says, "how about you tell me what he _can_?"

"The practical man of action strikes again," Dirk says. "These upgrades improve the brobot's fine manual dexterity, in addition to giving him some basic new move sets. As always, he'll learn finesse from your feedback." Talking technical specs in the abstract helps ease his boner back from borderline painful to just demanding attention; wouldn't want to go too fast, when they're really still in the lead-up. "He'll be learning where you like to be touched, whether you like having your hair pulled, how you like to have your dick stroked, all that good stuff." Full disclosure, Strider, come on. "How you feel about having your ass played with, maybe."

Jake makes a noise that Dirk wishes he could hear more clearly. "I'm a little surprised you wouldn't want to save that discovery for a manned expedition," he says.

"Meh, virginity fetish is for chumps," Dirk says. He's pretty sure he sounds more chill than he feels. "Of course, if you want to declare a no-plundering zone...."

"After you've put the idea in my head? I think my curiosity would get the better of me." A cloth-shifting sound on the other end of the line. "In fact, I think you should fire up the old tin can's new routines now so I can see them in action."

God, Dirk wishes _he_ could see the new routines in action. He reaches for his laptop, tabs over to the brobot's remote monitoring program, and confirms that he wants to run new processes. "Keep me updated, okay?" he says. "I want to hear how this test drive goes."

"You have my word," Jake promises. "And here he comes, the man of the hour."

"You'll have to make the first move," Dirk says. "Surprise sparring toughens you up, but there's no way to put a good spin on an uninvited assgrab."

Jake huffs. It sounds like a preparing-for-battle noise. Kind of stupid adorable. "You ask a lot, Mister Strider," he says. "But very well. I shall make advances to your automaton."

"Never stop talking," Dirk says. "Listening to you is this deliriously amazing trip that I could take for thousands of miles without getting bored."

"I can only do so many things at once, you know," Jake says. Then he goes quiet for a minute. Dirk listens carefully, trying to pick out the difference between movement sounds and noise on the line. He wonders if Jake is undressed yet. He wonders if Jake will ever be willing to strip with the webcam on. He wonders, for maybe the four hundred thirteen thousandth time, how hard it would actually be to get a flight to Hellmurder Island. "You know this is almost unbearably awkw—oh," Jake says. "Well."

The suspense is fucking murder. "How's it going?" Dirk asks. "Give me the play-by-play here, bro."

"We're still making first moves," Jake says. "I wouldn't have believed he could be so gentle."

"Before today, he probably couldn't," Dirk says.

Jake hums. "Probably? You built him."

"I built him to learn, though," Dirk says. "Sometimes the little guys surprise me." He clears his throat. "Don't try to send me off on a tangent now. How are you guys doing?"

"Good," Jake says. "He's—ah, you weren't exaggerating about wanting to explore, were you?"

"You're my undiscovered country, babe," Dirk says. "Tell me how it feels."

"It feels bally wonderful," Jake says. "I-I didn't realize it would be so _different_ , having hands on me that aren't my own. That sounds, ah, silly, doesn't it?"

"No," Dirk says. "It sounds sexy as hell. I just want more details so I can picture it better."

"He's just—he's touching me all over. Running his hands over my skin. It gives me goosebumps." He stops, takes a deep breath, and when he hesitates Dirk's close to begging him to keep going. "Hands down my sides. Thumbs following my hip bones. Sliding down to my thighs and goddamnit, Dirk, I'm so bloody hard already and your robot's a tease."

Dirk puts a hand over the mouthpiece of his headset for a second because he can't choke down his sound of need. "He'll get there," he says when his voice will obey him again. "And just like in a fight, he's going to respond to your responses. So. You can show him what's working."

Jake moans, this sound that thrums along Dirk's nerves and makes his cock if possible even harder. He doesn't dare move, because he's pretty sure any friction at all would set him off right now. "Strider, your _hands_ ," Jake says.

"Yeah," Dirk says hoarsely. "Feels so good to touch you, god."

"Pressing my thighs apart," Jake whispers. "Reaching up between them. C-cradling my balls and stroking, j-just barely, behind them and—I want you up my arse, Stri—Dirk."

"God, yes," Dirk says. His voice cracks. He doesn't care. "Anything you want, when you ask for it like that."

Fumbling movement sounds, then, and the snap of a flip-top bottle: Jake has lube on hand. He's using it. He's taking the suggestion Dirk mostly expected him to brush off, and instead he's going for it. He's doing this. He's crooning, sweet and low, and Dirk would _punch babies_ to be able to see him right now. "Yes," he says, "yes, yes, oh—slowly, oh god, I—"

"Breathe," Dirk says. "Keep breathing, god, you're killing me."

"The f-feeling is—entirely mutual, sir," Jake. "God, you—deeper, yes—I feel so _full_."

"Jake," Dirk breathes, and he's ruined, just head over heels destroyed by one Jake English, and it is the best way anyone has ever had their ass handed to them in all of recorded history. "I want to feel you come."

Jake makes this low, broken sound and says, "Yes—yes, you too, Dirk, tell me you're close," and for a split second Dirk wants to say something incredibly sappy like _Never close enough_.

What he says instead is, "Fuck yeah, I could go off any second, just trying to wait for you, babe," and his dick _hurts_ at this point from all the neglect he's been giving it.

"Well you can s-stop wait—aaaahhn," Jake's voice, dissolving into complete incoherence as he finishes, and Dirk shoves his boxers out of the way, grabs his dick, and takes ten seconds flat to catch up to Jake on the orgasm express.

As soon as he can hear anything again over the pounding in his ears, Dirk says, "So, good for you?"

Jake's laughter is shaky and breathless and wonderful. "You damned well know it was," he says. "You too, I hope."

"Absolutely the best," Dirk says. He is sincere with Jake a ridiculously high percent of the time.

Comfortable silence for a little bit, and then Jake says, "It's late where you are, isn't it?"

"It's no big," Dirk says.

"I still shouldn't keep you," Jake answers. "And I'm horribly sticky and in need of a shower myself."

Dirk manages a laugh, even if there's a little pang of regret under it. "Well, I'd hate to keep you from your ablutions."

"We'll do this again soon," Jake promises. "Good night, Mister Strider."

"Night, bro," Dirk says. He listens as the line goes silent, his eyes closed. Thousands of miles between them, and as the silence stretches in his apartment, he can feel just how far that is.


End file.
